


As Luke Recalls

by Payson_Blinde



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Boys In Love, Especially Jonathan, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, It's very slow, Love Confessions, Luke tells Jonathan's story as Jonathan told it to him, Luke tells the story of how he and Jonathan got together, M/M, Mostly Fluff, Retrospective, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Solely Luke's perspective, They're Both Clueless, dash of angst, if that even makes sense, small bit of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-07 08:00:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12836787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Payson_Blinde/pseuds/Payson_Blinde
Summary: Luke tells the decade-long tale of how he and his childhood friend, Jonathan, went from joined-at-the-hip, to curiously-close, to probably-dating, to really-should-be-dating, to the sweet, sweet lovers we know them to be. AU where Jonathan and Luke are the same age.





	1. Chapter 1

You know, I couldn't really tell you when all this started. It took a long time to get going, and even the whole 'getting going' part took a while, in itself. I don't think either of us were even really aware it was happening until a friend of mine asked me if we were dating, “Or what?” I don't remember what I said in answer to the question – probably something like, “Kinda.” – but for the rest of that day I couldn't help thinking about it. So that night I asked him the same question. He'd frowned, nodded, and said, “Yeah. I guess we are.”

  


When I met Jonathan, he was that kind of loner nerd guy you meet out of pure coincidence, and immediately wonder if he has any actual friends. He did, thankfully – a few like-minded guys who played video games with him once in a while, hanging out around the side of the school on their Gameboys, not even trying to pretend to be cool. My immediate reaction to him was 'good fucking lord, this guy's weird'. And I wasn't wrong. But that thought really didn't last long, because the second I made some stupid joke about a teacher of his, and he gave this crazy, no-holds-barred, whole-hearted laugh, I saw something a little different. I guess it was that part of him that says, 'I don't really give a fuck what you think'. And that was really refreshing.  
  
We became friends after the first few times we talked, and we went from guys who played video games together sometimes, to absolutely inseparable within a month. We spent just about every waking moment together; at lunch, ditching class – or those times when he snuck out of his house, and we spent half the night walking around town, and the other half trying not to laugh too loud while we trolled people on Call of Duty.  
  
When high school ended, neither of us really had a plan. I was trying to get into an engineering class in the state college, but I didn't make the grades. He still didn't have a clue. But both our parents kinda wanted us out of the house, so we decided we'd pick up jobs in town and get an apartment together. Jonathan and I hulled the TV out of my bedroom and into the pickup, and we were on our own.  
  
Honestly, those first few months were stressful as fuck, but so fun. Our parents agreed to pay the first month's rent while we found jobs, and every time one of us would clammer back in after a shitty interview, we'd kill the night with the TV and a couple controllers. We had to figure out how to do things like cook dinners, snake drains, fix faucets, work broken thermostats, drive in Jonathan's case – but we did it together, so it ended up being really fun. And eventually, he got a place washing dishes, and I started working in a sports shop. So, we made it work.  
  
It wasn't until those first few months together that anything 'tangible' really happened between us. I mean, we'd had moments before – like one late night when we were chilling on a park bench, and he'd said something quietly but I didn't catch it.  
  
“Huh?”  
  
He shook his head. “Nah, nothin'.”  
  
“Don't you bullshit me, whad'you say?” I demanded, grinning.  
  
He shrugged. “Just – you know, you're my best friend.” he muttered.  
  
I took a second to just... have the moment, I guess – that's not really something you hear too often. Course then I punched his shoulder and laughed. “Shut the fuck up,”  
  
He hit me right back, grinning. “C'mon, say I'm your best friend!”  
  
I pushed him away by his head. “Yeah, fine. You're my best friend, fuckin' psycho.” I admitted.  
  
He leaned back on the bench, with a big, toothy, victorious smile. “Good.”  
  
We ended up having a silent nudge battle after that, which quickly evolved into toppling-onto-the-grass roughhousing. When I pried him off of me for the fourth or fifth time – the guy had a grip like a vice – and he rolled onto his back, we just stared up at the black sky for a few minutes, our breathing steadily getting quieter, until we were left with just comfortable silence. Jonathan must've come pretty close to falling asleep, though, because I had to all but carry him back home.  
  
You know what, I'll bet the first hint that there was something a little more there was junior year of high school, when I met this girl named Cassandra. It was pretty obvious she liked me – she'd come around to where Jonathan and I had lunch just to ask me some question, and then leave. Jonathan noticed it, too – but he didn't know what it was.  
  
“What's that girl keep doin'?” he asked, taking a bite of a sandwich.  
  
I frowned. “What you mean?”  
  
He shrugged, swallowing. “She been here twice this week. I never even seen her before,” he explained, shaking his head.  
  
“She's in my math class. Guess she likes me.” I replied pretty nonchalantly, but that shocked the hell out of Jonathan.  
  
“Wait like-” he leaned closer to me, eyebrows raised, “she like likes you?”  
  
I laughed. “What, we in fifth grade? She's got a crush on me, yeah. It's not a big deal.” But Jonathan was still perplexed.  
  
“But then-” he looked toward the corner she'd hurried around, “Doesn't that mean-” he whipped back around toward me, “Are you guys gonna go out? Like on a date?” he questioned.  
  
I couldn't hold back my grin. His confusion was just too genuine. “I mean, no. I don't wanna date her.”  
  
Jonathan blinked. “So then... nothing changes?”  
  
I shook my head. “Nope. Nothing changes.” and took a bite of bagel.  
  
Jonathan was quiet for a second, then steadily nodded. “Oh. Okay.”  
  
I raised an eyebrow. “What, you want me to get a girlfriend?” I teased.  
  
Jonathan seemed to wake up with a start, eyes wide. “Fuck no!” he cried.  
  
I laughed. “Fuck no? Not a big sharer, huh?”  
  
Jonathan huffed, frowning into his sandwich. “Man, I ain't sharin' shit!” he declared, and took a vicious bite.  
  
I chuckled. “Well, lucky you, you don't gotta,” and I put an arm around his neck, pulling him toward me, just to tease him. And I remember distinctly that he turned his head into my shirt for a second, leaning on me very briefly before shrugging me off with a grin. I remember it surprised me – not that he did it, but that it didn't feel weird or unnatural. I guess it just surprised me that we were that close.  
  
If that was a promise, I broke it. The next year, my dad started giving me some shit about never dating in high school, saying I'd regret it later, or that I was a wuss or whatever. Anyway, I got sick of it, so I basically just went up to a girl who'd giving me the eyes for a while and just said, “Hey, movie at eight?” She seemed surprised but agreed, and that was that.  
  
I honestly thought I'd be a lot more nervous than I was. We walked in, watched some rom-com she wanted to see – thankfully I didn't have to sit through most of it, since she was perfectly content to make out through the last half – and drove her home, easy as shit.  
  
I'd told Jonathan I was going to do it beforehand, and he definitely wasn't thrilled, but he got that my dad was being a dick, so he didn't put up too much of a fit. He was pouting outside his door walking home, so I shut him up with a hug, and he seemed sated. But he did make me promise that Sundays were his – and that one I didn't break.  
  
I wonder every once in a while if it was really worth it, dating that girl. It was fun, I guess, sometimes. It was really more of a 'so that's how that works' kind of experience than anything else. Got a few firsts out of the way. But I just wasn't really into her. She was hot, yeah, and it got my dad off my back, but eventually it just turned into more drama than it was worth. To be honest, a lot of it was my fault, but she didn't like how much time I spent with Jonathan – I wouldn't have lunch with her, that turned into a big thing – and she got pissed at me when I left a date when Jonathan called me, saying he'd fallen off his bicycle in the middle of fucking nowhere and couldn't get up. He was okay, by the way – he'd hit his head and there was lot of blood, but nothing a shirt tied around the forehead and a trip to the hospital couldn't fix.  
  
But the last straw was prom, when I spent just about the whole thing making an idiot of myself with Jonathan in the middle of the dance circle, while all the other couples were making out on the sidelines, and spent the slow dance doing a ridiculous, over-dramatic waltz with Jonathan across the floor. ...And I'm sure it didn't help when I hauled Jonathan into the car to drop her off at her house, shouting along to trashy radio music all the way. Course then, when we got to my place, the two of us decided to take off our coats and jump into the pool. Probably one of the most fun nights of my life. Woke up to five break-up texts, but after skimming them, all I could think was, 'worth it'.  
  
I texted Jonathan telling him to come over, and when he pointed out it was Saturday – 'her' day – I told him “The storm has passed”, and we celebrated the occasion with popcorn and Mortal Combat.  
  
So that just about takes me back to where I was before. We were living together pretty soon after that, and we got just generally closer. I mean, it was a tiny little two-room apartment, and we'd planned on cramming another bed or a couch in the living room, but it just didn't really happen, so... Yeah, we ended up sleeping in the same bed for about six months or something. ...Wow. You know, I never even really thought about that. I mean, if that's not a big screaming rainbow flag, I don't know what is. ...Holy shit, that's why the landlord kept asking how we liked the closet, that bitch!  
  
Anyway. Probably one of the more pivotal points in our friendship happened one night, when we were up way too late playing Call of Duty. Jonathan and I were on the same team, and Jonathan ended up getting into a really intense firefight with this other guy – top of the board, giving our team hell. He started laying some heavy suppressive fire, and Jonathan got trapped like a mouse. The guy just wouldn't let up.  
  
“This is stupid, I can't even move.” Jonathan complained, stuck crouching between a barrier and a building.  
  
“Alright, alright, I'll take him out.” I chuckled. I was on a pretty impressive killstreak and feeling cocky, so I started creeping around the edge of the map to knife him. I got really close before he noticed me, and whipped around to start stabbing right back at me.  
  
“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck!” I panicked, the two of us strafing around in a messy knifefight. Then the guy got impatient and switched to a gun. “I'm gonna fuckin' die.”  
  
“Not today, bitch!” Jonathan declared, and headshot him from across the yard.  
  
I gasped. “You beauty!” I cried, pulled his head to my shoulder, and kissed his hair. He giggled like a vicious schoolboy.  
  
It might seem pretty insignificant, but after that point, we started getting a lot more affectionate with each other. Not just when one of us saved the other's ass, but just in general. He'd come home and I'd already have dinner cooked, and he'd say something like “God damn that smells good,” and hug me at the door. Or one night when we were in bed, and I was trying to go to sleep but I just knew something was up. I opened my eyes and saw he was reading something depressing on his phone, so I snatched it and put it on the floor on my side, and put arm over him in a lazy hug that didn't budge until the alarm went off in the morning.  
  
There was one day when I was absolutely positive I was going to be fired, because I got the blame for something a shitty coworker did, and I was just completely out of it when I got back home. Angry and stressed out and depressed just all at once. Jonathan must have sensed it as soon as he opened the door; he let me go on a rant about it for a good twenty minutes. When I finally burned myself out, I flopped onto the bed, and Jonathan took out his phone and ordered pizza. Then he put on some Fast and Furious, and that was the night. I woke up the next morning with my shoes off, and leather jacket hooked on its usual door-handle. Lord knows how he managed that.  
  
Oh, yeah. And there was this one thing.  
  
So at one point, we decided to take a vacation. Jonathan had always wanted to see New York City, so we drove up there for a really stupidly-planned weekend. We woke up early Saturday morning and got there by mid-afternoon, and basically just screwed around town for ages. Eventually we hit up a bar and stayed until about 3 am getting shit-faced. We sort of fell into a cheap motel – as if anything's cheap in that city – just sort of hanging off of each other. We couldn't afford a room with two beds, so we just got a double. Between that and one of us calling the other 'darling' while we were checking in – probably me, to be honest – the girl working there naturally assumed we were together.  
  
She started rambling. “Oh my gosh, you two are adorable! I – you know – I don't mean to be rude, I've just never seen a real gay couple before.”  
  
Jonathan and I turned to each other. Jonathan burst out laughing, but I decided to roll with it.  
  
“Uh huh,” I drawled. “Yeah, been together five years, i'n that right sweetie,”  
  
Jonathan tried to compose himself, but he was too far gone. “Y-yup... Six in...” and his voice just cracked and collapsed into a giggling fit, leaning about half his weight on me.  
  
I just nodded sleepily as if he'd said something coherent. “Six in May, that's right,” I agreed, patting his head.  
  
The girl clapped her hands on her cheeks. “That is too cute!” Then she probably remembered she had a job. “Right, your room's number eight,”  
  
Jonathan tried to respond through his red-faced gasps for breath. “Th... Tha...” and he fell into another bout of giggling.  
  
“Thanks,” I translated. “Come on honey,” I prodded, just about dragging him out the door, making sure to say loud and clear, “This is just like The Notebook all over again,” before it closed.  
  
Grinning, Jonathan pushed his elbow into my chest with a barely-intelligible, “Fuck you, man!”  
  
“Come on, don't make me carry your ass!” I laughed.  
  
“Wha, you gonna carry me across the threshold, huh?” he slurred with a wide smile.  
  
I rolled my eyes, and gave a chuckled “Shut the fuck up,” though that's basically what ended up happening.  
So that's how the over-use of pet names turned into an inside joke between us. Sometimes we'd do it just to make the guy working the drive-through uncomfortable, then whenever one of us did some chore we both hate - “Babe, you scrubbed the shower?” - and then eventually, it became so normal, we didn't even realize we were doing it. Until, of course, one of our friends started staring at me when I walked into the bar's bathroom in the middle of a game of pool and called, “Hey honeybunches, your turn. Get that sweet ass out here.” But they got used to it eventually.  
  
Let's see. It's hard to pin down really where things started changing between us – you know, it's not something you're really aware of. I guess the first time we kissed was a pretty decent milestone.  
  
It was at a New Years party. We were with a bunch of friends, it was a pretty big get-together; big crowd in front the TV, fireworks right outside, someone barbecuing since we ran out of real food and we'd been chomping on popcorn all night. I'm sure you can see where this is going.  
  
Anyway, Jonathan and I were standing by the couch, and I remembered Jonathan was complaining about needing the bathroom, since someone was using it one way or another just about all night. But the clock was down to the last ten seconds, so he stuck around.  
  
Now, by this point, it was common knowledge than Jonathan and I lived together, and basically acted like a married couple in almost every possible way. People were used to it by now, and it was a joke that we were dating and didn't know it. Jonathan and I got a kick out of it. So when a friend of ours asked us a little earlier if we were going to kiss at midnight, we just joked that we would. Well, apparently our acting was a little too good, because she believed it. And then went around telling everyone. So ten seconds until the ball drops, and everyone's got one eye on the TV, and the other on us. Course, Jonathan and I have no idea what's going on. Midnight hits, everyone starts screaming, all the couples make out for a second and then all eyes on us.  
I didn't even notice at first. I smacked Jonathan on the back and he started walking toward the bathroom, but he didn't make it too far since everyone decided to block him in.  
“C'mon, man, bathroom.” he muttered.  
  
It seemed like twenty people started shouting at once. It took both of us a second to put together what they were even saying: the overall message was 'Kiss him, bitch'.  
I remember looking incredulously between a few people, half of them watching Jonathan and the other half on me with big, wide eyes. “The fuck?”  
“It's midnight! Kiss your fucking boyfriend!” one of them shouted.  
  
Some girl yelled, “You promised!”  
  
Jonathan was still trying to worm his way between the people, but they weren't having it. I rolled my eyes. “C'mon guys, we ain't dating.”  
  
The consensus was 'you're not going anywhere until you give us some blackmail material'. Jonathan turned back toward me, unsure, licking his lips. Being a little drunk, and honestly having done just about everything below that with him already, I beckoned him over.  
  
Jonathan walked toward me a bit hesitantly, looked at me for a second, and squeezed his eyes shut. I grinned – I had to hold his chin because I knew for a fact I'd miss – and, because I knew these people wouldn't let me get away with just a peck, I just went for it. I kept him there for a good three or four seconds, everyone shrieking around us. It was a little bit like the end of a cheesy action movie, guy gets the girl and the crowd goes wild.  
  
Someone recorded the whole thing: Jonathan walking down a crowd of people, cheeks all red, and a victorious kiss – it looked like a low-budget wedding.  
  
Now, don't get ahead of yourself. That didn't become the next normal thing between us. It was a while before that happened again. But let me tell you one thing – there's something a little magic about that. I mean, you can't just kiss the only person who really gets you at midnight, New Years Day, both a little tipsy, everyone around you cheering and screeching – you can't just do that and expect nothing to change. I mean, fairy tales might all be bullshit, and heaven might be that lie you tell so you can sleep at night, but that, that's real. And I remember – don't you laugh – I remember pulling away from him, and realizing just how blue his eyes were.  
  
I'm not gonna lie, it was a little awkward afterward. I mean, it wasn't much – I guess it wasn't the kind of awkward you'd expect. Not like the 'get away from me' awkward, more like the 'holy shit we look like a couple' awkward. It didn't really stop either of us from doing anything. He'd still crawl to the foot of the bed and put his head on my shoulder while I played something single-player late at night, and ask all quiet, “What you doin'?” And when I dropped him off at work on Saturdays, when I had nothing better to do, I'd still wave my hand out the window and shout, “Later cutie!” I think it made us think about those things a little more, but no, it definitely didn't stop us.  
  
So I guess, when did I figure out that I liked him?  
  
It took a while. Like two years a while. People definitely got the hint way before either of us did. But I'm not really the most reflective guy, so when people first started asking me if there was something between us, I brushed it off and didn't think twice about it. It wasn't for a long time that I started wondering if I actually had a thing for Jonathan – but it wasn't one of those topics I'd really delve into, it was more an idea that popped into my head once in a while when I was thinking about something else. Of course, I'd usually swat it away like a fly; it just seemed taboo. You know, we interacted all the time as if we were already in a relationship, but it wasn't something we really talked about. We just did it because it was an inside joke that evolved into a lifestyle – and a comfortable one, too.  
  
So, yeah, it took a long fucking time for me to realize I really liked him. And it took something screaming it in my face for me to notice.  
  
By this time, we were doing a little better with the whole money situation, so we could afford an apartment with another bedroom. So for the first time in six months, we weren't sharing. I can't lie, that switch was really weird. It was nice having the space, of course, but you get so used to sharing a bed, and suddenly you don't really want the other half. There were more than a few nights when Jonathan came in complaining about being cold and plopped down next to me. I was perfectly fine with that – I would've done it myself, but he always seemed to walk in the second I thought to. We had an excuse when we first moved in and the heating was out, but after it was fixed, it didn't really stop, but neither of us questioned it.  
  
Anyway, Jonathan liked meeting people in games. It suited him, really – he wasn't always too comfortable talking to strangers in person, but he was perfectly fine with a keyboard or mic. He was actually pretty popular. As soon as he came online, at least three or four people would say hey or invite him to a game, and he was on calls with them more often than not. Well, that fateful day came when he met a girl online.  
  
She was cool, really. She wasn't bad. But damn did she fall for Jonathan. And the poor guy didn't even realize.  
  
So at one point, while I was in the kitchen getting something to eat, I heard a distressed, “Luuuke?”  
  
I closed the fridge. “What's up?” I asked, walking around the corner. Jonathan just pointed at the TV screen, where a chat between him and the girl had taken quite a turn. They'd apparently started talking about Jonathan's love life, and the girl started getting flirty, and Jonathan, completely oblivious, just unintentionally shot her down in the worst possible way. The girl, of course, snapped and disconnected.  
  
I had to laugh. “Well look at you, hot shot.”  
  
He was still panicking. “What did I do?”  
  
“Well you kinda roasted the shit out of her,” I chuckled, rubbing the back of my neck.  
  
Jonathan blinked. “Wha?”  
  
I pushed his shoulder. “She was flirting with you, dumbass!”  
  
He stared at the screen for another second, rereading. Then his eyes went wide. “Oh, shit.”  
  
“Oh shit's right. You didn't even notice?” I asked, amused but hardly surprised, and I started back to the fridge.  
  
“But – what do I do?” he cried after me.  
  
I pawed through the leftovers, calling over my shoulder, “You message her and say you're sorry for bein' a fuckin' moron.”  
  
I picked up a box of pizza from last night and closed the fridge. “Careful though, don't give her the wrong idea.” I advised, walking back around to the couch.  
  
He looked over at me, confused. “Wha... What wrong idea?”  
  
I rolled my eyes and plopped down beside him. “That you're interested,”  
  
I remember he just stared at me for a second, and we were both completely silent. I immediately started to wonder – what if he was interested? And I'd just assumed that he wasn't? Honestly, I didn't like considering it. Kind of hated it, really. I mean, the idea of him dating some girl just... I don't know, it just didn't look right. Anyway, I was about to causally throw out that possibility – you know, supportive friend or whatever – when he just nodded, turned back toward the keyboard, and started typing.  
  
I watched him for a second, still a little on-edge. “I mean, are you?” I asked.  
  
“Am I what?” he asked, glancing over at me.  
  
I gestured toward the TV with the pizza slice. “Interested in her.”  
  
He shook his head. “Nope.”  
  
We were quiet for another second as he continued writing. I broke the silence muttering, “No 'e' in moron,” before taking a bite.  
  
Jonathan frowned. “You sure?”  
  
“Positive.” I answered around the mouthful, nodding.  
  
He started playing again after that, and things went back to normal. The girl was nice about it, and she backed off. And again, I'm not the most reflective guy, but I did catch myself there. I remember laying in my bed that night, just kinda thinking about it. I mean, it didn't really make sense for me to hate the idea of my best friend getting a girlfriend. I should have been cool with it – encouraged him, even. But I hated it, I really did. But I didn't get why. That is, not until he tapped on the door.  
  
“C'mon in,” I called, and started making room on the mattress. The lights were off, so I didn't see him. I just heard the pat of his feet on the carpet, and then I felt the mattress sink, and he leaned up against me.  
  
We laid there, just settled, comfortable silence. My mind started to wander, and it kind of occurred to me that one day, he'd be like this – curled up on some mattress, but leaning against someone else. Let me tell you, I don't think I'd ever gotten so pissed off so quickly in my entire life – I got this bad taste in my mouth, and I had this sudden, animalistic urge to bite something. And as I was calming myself down, I had to wonder again if, you know, maybe I liked him. But at the same time I was still trying to push it out of my head – I didn't think it was normal.  
  
Course, then the fucker decided he'd take that moment to roll over, murmur “You're warm,” and nuzzle himself into my shirt. So, yeah. That sold it. I remember putting an arm over him and thinking, 'This dumbass is all mine'.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Delirious's perspective, told from Luke's perspective. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Now, if you thought it took something smacking me in the face to realize I liked Jonathan, then it took getting hit by a train for Jonathan to figure it out. And Jonathan's not stupid, but man, he doesn't know jack shit about his own emotions. Which makes it kinda confusing, cause he can know a lot about mine.  
  
Jonathan and I used to talk about this whole process and how it went down for both of us separately a lot, because to be honest, it was kinda funny how it all lined up.  
  
When we were kids, Jonathan was always the preferred one over me – he was a lot more complaint when it came to adults and teachers; he'd just do what he was told, whereas I'd usually have something to say about it before I just followed orders. So when we met, I was kind of the rebel between the two of us. Actually, his mom knew about me, and told him not to hang out with me. But apparently he thought I was a 'cool kid' or something, and so at first, he just liked being seen with me and people knowing that we were friends. And soon enough, we stuck together just because we really got each other.  
  
I guess you could say I kinda brought out the rebel in Jonathan – I mean it was definitely me who suggested in theory that he could sneak out of the house to play COD with me, since he didn't have his own console, but it was him who actually agreed to do it. I thought at first he would've just felt pressured to go with it, but he said that he'd always wanted to do stupid shit like that, but he just didn't have the confidence. So I guess that's my claim to fame.  
  
Now, I think I said before – Jonathan came from a group of boys who basically just played video games together sometimes, they weren't really too close. I don't think Jonathan actually knew more than two of their last names, and as he's said, they more stuck together just to not be completely alone. So when we started becoming close, it was really special for him. I mean, we were in third grade or so, and I was his first real friend. He once said that at this point, he was really scared of losing me. I guess he thought I'd ditch him because he still thought I was a 'cool kid' or whatever. Makes me sad thinking about it, really, because there was no way in hell that was happening, but I can't go back and tell him that.  
  
So on that chilly evening laying in the park, he decided to tell me that I was his best friend. It wasn't supposed to be a guilt trip, more just an attempt to solidify what we had. I'm just glad I didn't respond like a jerk or anything, because at the time, I had no idea how vulnerable he was.  
  
I don't think I need to make it any more clear, but Jonathan can have a hell of a time trying to sort out his own feelings. So before I start telling his side of the story, I think I should pay credit where credit is due.  
  
As I'm sure you know, Jonathan has an older sister. She's a really nice girl, and honestly, if it weren't for her, I don't know if Jonathan and I would have ever started dating. They talked a lot, and she definitely figured out that he might like me ages before he did. And I mean, literally years. He said there was one day while she was in town when he came home in a fit, and when she asked, he went on a big rant about how I was going to start going out with some girl. Now, obviously I don't know what happened word for word, but I can promise you it went something like this.  
  
“I mean, I don't even know this girl and now, he's spending all his weekends at her place, doing... whatever.” I know he would have grumbled.  
  
“You guys aren't doing movie night?” she asked. We used to watch a few movies every Sunday night, host's pick.  
  
Jonathan rolled his eyes. “Well yeah, we're still doing movie night.”  
  
She raised an eyebrow. “So he's spending... What, Saturday with her?”  
  
Jonathan nodded vigorously. “That means we can only hang out half as much time.”  
  
“Don't you guys still, like, have classes together?” she inquired, skeptical.  
  
Jonathan huffed. “Well, yeah, we still have classes but it ain't the same.”  
  
“Why's that?” she asked.  
  
Jonathan said he didn't really have a good answer to that. He probably just stared at a wall for a second, trying to think of the words, and then adjusted himself on the couch when he realized he didn't have anything, giving another annoyed huff. “Just ain't.”  
  
Then he got something. Probably sat up all excited and faced her, and he declared, “He promised! He promised I wouldn't have to share and now I do. He lied. He-” Jonathan said he cut himself off here, because he remembered why I was doing it. I know I made sure to tell him that I didn't want to date the girl, but I felt like I had to. He said he started feeling really guilty, and he quieted down.  
  
“What, what's wrong?” his sister asked, a little worried.  
  
Jonathan just shook his head, giving a short shrug. “Nah. I just – you know, it's all good. It's really... I mean it's really only Saturdays ain't it? Not so bad,” he muttered.  
  
She nodded slowly. “That's true.” She sat up a little straighter and asked, “But why did you get all riled up about it?”  
  
Jonathan just stared at her. “Cause he's my friend,” he answered blankly.  
  
She rolled her eyes. “I mean, what's the big deal about sharing? He's gonna have other friends.”  
  
Jonathan pulled his mouth to the side, unsure himself. “He can have other friends, that's cool.”  
  
“So what, he just can't date?” she questioned.  
  
Jonathan said he couldn't keep his face scrunching up when he replied, “He can date if he wants to.”  
  
“Well obviously that's not true, you just went on a fuckin' rant about it. It's not like he's gonna go his whole life never getting a girlfriend, that's just something you'll have to deal with. Might wanna ask yourself why that's such a problem,” she suggested, and she went back to reading.  
  
Well, as you might imagine, Jonathan didn't ask himself shit. I remember just about every week, he'd ask how things were going, with this low voice that gave me the feeling that he didn't really want to know. That wasn't far off the mark, really – I thought he was asking because he felt obliged to, but he was looking for signs he might be getting his Saturdays back.  
  
Apparently he thought it was really special that I refused to have lunch with her and all the popular bitches in the cafeteria. He kinda felt like he was giving her the middle finger whenever I'd ditch her and walk with Jonathan to the back of the math building – though apparently, he did actually flip her off once or twice during that exchange. I was pretty damn proud when I heard about that.  
  
When I first started asking Jonathan about how he came around on all this, he was really embarrassed to talk about it. Makes sense, right, having to retell all the little details about all the tiny things that happened years ago that made you all giddy. Things that, to anyone else, seem completely normal. But I already knew he's a big softie, so it's not like I was expecting anything else. But I've gotta say, when I asked him about the first time anything like that happened, I didn't expect him to tell me the story of The Great Power-Outage of 199Something.  
  
We must've been about... eleven, maybe twelve when this happened. There was a huge lightning storm, like nothing else I've seen since. It was 2 am, the first time Jonathan ever stayed the night, we were sitting in the living room with the curtains all the way open, just binging horror movies to the cracking thunder. I mean, it was pretty sick. Once in a while during a suspenseful moment in the movie, while we were totally immersed, lightning would flash through the room and the thunder would clap in our ears, and we'd shriek like little bitches. Good times.  
  
Anyway, 3 or 4 am rolls around and we're turning off the TV. I close the curtains, and Jonathan goes to turn on the light, trying to de-spook the room. Well, as you can imagine, nothing happens. He flicks it again. Nothing. At this point, we're both sort of nervous laughing as we put together the fact that we're stuck in this creepy-ass setting for the entire night.  
  
I got the old flashlight from the junk drawer – I don't know if I was trying to make things better or worse, if I'm honest. But the heating was off, the house was getting cold as fuck, and Jonathan would need a blanket. And the extras were kept downstairs.  
  
So, if you can imagine two eleven-year-old boys shaking in their boots, pointing a flashlight down into the cold, dark abyss of the basement, lightning snapping in the windows, you wouldn't be far off from that mess.  
  
Nowadays, if that'd happen, we probably would've embraced the terror and fuckin' gone for it. But that night, it wasn't gonna happen. We spun round on our heels and marched right back to my room. Jonathan was about to wave himself off to the freezing couch when I outright refused to deal with him sniffling and sneezing in the morning, and demanded that he just get in the bed next to me.  
  
Like any conservative first-time bed-guest, he'd tried to take up as little space on the mattress as he possibly could, to the point of nearly falling off. Well, 'nearly'. He did. Slipped right off the side and onto the floor, the dumbass. Scared the living daylights out of me. Course, after I realized that there wasn't a demon banging on the wall or something, I said something to the effect of, “What the hell are you doing?”  
  
Now, Jonathan, the absolute charming idiot that he is, decided he'd try to justify his position by saying, “Think I'll just sleep on the floor.”  
  
By this point, I'd had enough of his bullshit. I got out of the bed, shoved the side of mattress against the dresser, and told him to “get the fuck back in.” He very sheepishly crawled back under the covers, shoving himself as far into the dresser has he possibly could – probably stabbing himself on the knobs - then I got back in after him, and we went back to sleep. Of course, the whole 'conservative' nonsense was readily thrown out the window during the night and we woke up completely splayed across each other.  
  
This was the first memory Jonathan recalled to me, and with that same shyness, he didn't really give a lot of detail, so I can't tell you what was going through his head during all this. But he said afterward, this was apparently the first sleepover he'd gone to where he wasn't sleeping on the floor. He'd been to a few other ones, but it was typically with a small handful of geeky guys, and the couch was always taken. So when he found out he'd actually get the bed, it gave him a really good impression of me; not really that I was more fun to hang out with or something, but more like that I would look out for him. He said that he felt like he mattered more when he was with me. And I gotta say, that really warmed my heart.  
  
It was honestly really hard for Jonathan to try and track this whole development. Kinda like me, he didn't notice it – except he really didn't notice it. And if you talk to literally anyone else, they'll tell you that it was obvious Jonathan liked me way earlier than I started seeming like I was into him. I mean, people started figuring I might have a real thing for him at around the time we started using pet names, when we were in our early twenties. But if you ask our friends, they'll say Jonathan was dead obvious from the time we were in junior high.  
  
We'd known each other for a few years by the time we'd got into seventh grade and had to switch schools. A lot of the guys Jonathan used to hang out with lived on the other side of town, so all but a couple of them ended up in a different junior high. He's always been kinda shy when he's in a whole new situation like that, so he stuck real close to me for the first month or so.  
  
When he was telling me all this, he said he hadn't really had to actually make friends since about second grade, since after that, he just stuck with the same kids all the time. On the other hand, I wasn't half bad at it. Jonathan used to think I was some kind of 'cool kid' and I guess some other people thought so too, so I landed myself a couple good buddies pretty quick. Jonathan wanted to stay with me, but he said that he felt like he really shouldn't – felt like he stuck out like a sore thumb, being awkward and quiet in a group full of people all chatting away.  
  
One day – and I remember this distinctly – he said he just got really down on himself about it, and in the middle of lunch, he threw away half his food and said he was going to the bathroom. Maybe fifteen minutes go by and he doesn't come back. I figured he'd probably gotten lost – we were still pretty new to the school – so I go and look for him. I checked the bathroom, outside the cafeteria, and walked through three other buildings yelling his name until a teacher came out to tell me to shut up. I told her that my friend was missing, and she started getting worried, so she called security to go look for him.  
  
It wasn't long before the bell rang for the end of lunch, and I was freaking out. A security guard walked me up to the principal's office, and started asking me his name, where I last saw him, where he'd headed, all that, and then they sent me to walk back to class, feeling useless.  
  
Another twenty minutes go by and the teacher gets a phone call. She calls me up to the desk to tells me they found him; the dumbass made it half way home, he must've gone a good three miles. They dragged him back to school and called his mom. He got his ass handed to him by the police, went home with his mom, and got it again from her.  
  
I went over to his house after school and knocked on the door. His mom answered, and told me very curtly that Jonathan was grounded and wasn't going out for the next two weeks. Of course then I had to pull some kind of worried, sympathetic, understanding bullshit face and walk away. It's not like this was the first time he'd ever gotten grounded. So I went around the house and tapped on the fucker's window. I saw him scoot over the bed to look out, and he hesitated for a second. I rolled my eyes and mouthed, 'c'mon', and he opened it.  
  
I looked him over for a second. He was kind of a wreck, I don't think I'd ever seen him that sad. He wouldn't even look at me.  
  
“You okay?” I asked, trying to be quiet.  
  
Jonathan just shrugged, eyes down.  
  
I watched him for another second, and then I got kinda sick of it. I took a step back from the window. “C'mon out here.”  
  
Jonathan bit his cheek, but I wasn't going to let up. “Really, c'mon.” I insisted.  
  
His brow was knit tight together, and his mouth was a straight line, but he crawled out the window and stood with his back against the house.  
  
I didn't know this at the time, but he told me later that he was absolutely positive I was going to yell at him. He said that getting shit from his mom, the police, the principal, that was one thing, he could deal with that. But getting shit from me was something different. So I'm really, really glad that when he stepped out of that window, little twelve-year-old me immediately pulled him into a hug.  
  
We stayed there for a good couple seconds, and when I let go of him, I sat down on the grass and beckoned him next to me. We sat with our legs crossed, leaning up against his house, whispering to each other.  
  
“Why'd you go?” I asked him.  
  
He shrugged, tearing the grass.  
  
I frowned. “No, really. Why'd you go?”  
  
He took a slow inhale. “I dunno. I just... I don't think I – like... fit, you know?” he muttered.  
  
I blinked. “What?”  
  
He gave the grass some mercy and leaned his head back on the house. “Like... you can just talk to anyone. You know, everyone likes you. And I mean, I...”  
  
He turned up his palms and gnawed his lip, for a second, and then he shook his head. “I just ain't like that.”  
  
Being a clueless junior high kid, I didn't really get how that was the reason he walked out in the middle of lunch. I knew he was upset, and I didn't really know how to help him, but I wanted him to know I was gonna be there for him.  
  
So I put a hand on his shoulder, and he actually looked at me. I held his gaze and told him very seriously, “Man, I like you 'cause of all that. And listen, I'm gonna be your friend 'til it kills me. You cool with that?”  
  
His eyes were going red, and he gave a small nod, his lips cracking just the gentlest smile. Let me tell you, there's something so pure and so tragic about that kind of smile – it doesn't really promise you that everything's good from here on out, but it tells you that right in this moment, you helped.  
  
I reached over and pulled him toward me, and he leaned on me with my arm over his shoulders for a few minutes, just sitting quietly.  
  
A little later, I looked down at the top of his hair and asked, “Think you'll eat with everyone tomorrow?”  
  
He took a second to reply, and his voice was soft. “You gonna?”  
  
I shrugged with my free shoulder. “I dunno. I kinda like when we eat alone like losers.” I considered.  
  
Jonathan lifted his head to look at me, eyes wide and innocent. “Really?” he asked.  
  
I smiled, nodding. “Yeah.”  
  
Jonathan gave a slow grin. “Awesome.”  
  
I reached over and ruffled his hair. “I am, ain't I?”  
  
He laughed, pushing my hand away. “Man, get that shit outta here,”  
  
I chuckled and pushed myself up, reaching out to Jonathan to pulling him up to stand. We dusted the dirt off us and Jonathan climbed back into his room. He reached through the window and we did a little slap-slap-bump like we were hot shit and I went home.  
  
Now, when Jonathan tells this story, he skips right to the part where his sister is all but shoving it in his face that he's got a thing for me, because that's all he really noticed. But our friends still laugh about some of the shit he did between junior high and high school, because holy hell I don't know how I missed it.  
  
It'd be little things, you know – whenever we shared a class and there was some kind of group project, he just about teleported to me. Seems normal enough, right, we're good friends and he's not exactly outgoing. But this kid – I swear, I don't know how I got so lucky – he wouldn't take orders from other kids for shit unless I said it was cool.  
  
For ages I couldn't read his handwriting worth a damn, but on the days I got sick and missed class, he'd make his notes neat and pristine as can be so I could copy them.  
  
He'd keep pencil lead in his bag even though he hated mechanical pencils, just because I'd use them all the time.  
  
His mom used to make these amazing homemade cookies that I just adored, and every time she made them, he'd grab a couple extra and take them to school for me.  
  
He nearly got in a fight with a guy when he started talking shit about me – only reason he didn't was because I dragged him away before he could take the step forward.  
  
He was on free meals and never had any money, but he always kept just enough cash for what I got for lunch, just in case I forgot my wallet.  
  
I mean... I don't know what to tell you. At the time, we both figured he was just being a good friend, but looking back on it... Shit, I mean, I don't know what kind of saint I must've been in my last life, because I know I ain't done shit to deserve him now. He was twelve years old and gave more fucks about me than he did about himself.  
  
Now, again, he didn't have much to say about this story until the first year we were living together. But a friend of ours told me this one snippet I think is worth adding.  
  
Jonathan didn't really get along with school too well – he's smart, but not in a textbook kinda way. He's better with strategy and that sort of thing. He was worth his weight in gold in any kind of game, but his grades were garbage. So anyway, he really wanted to start making money, but his parents always told him he couldn't get a job until he had Cs across the board. He hated it. I didn't get it at the time, but later on, he told me it was because he kept track of all the times I'd ever paid for him at a movie or lunch or something, and he 'owed' me something like two hundred dollars. If I'd have known at the time, I would've told him to save the effort, because it didn't mean jack shit to me. I mean, I wasn't working either, I was just using pocket money from my parents.  
  
Anyway, I figured I could try and help him out. So I tutored him in all the math that I actually got, and helped him study just about every day: we drew out timelines, talked about books, made some really shit cell diagrams, the whole nine yards. And he did it, he started pulling straight Cs – plus a B in History. He was so happy.  
  
I just about blinked and he was working. It was a shit job, really, and the place went bankrupt within the year. But while he was in there, he met a guy who ended up being friends with us later on. I'm sure you'll see in a minute, but he's kind of a nosy bastard.  
  
Jonathan mentioned one day that he was working to get money to pay back a friend. The guy asked him why he owed me money, and Jonathan said something like 'we go out a lot and he always pays for me'. So the guy gets a little curious, starts asking some more questions – how long we've known each other, what kind of stuff we go and do, all that. And Jonathan gives him answers, he doesn't see what he's doing. So they keep working together, and over the weeks, the guy keeps poking Jonathan about it. He'd ask if either of us ever dated, and Jonathan would say that I did once for like a month and that was it – which, I dunno about your school, but around those parts, that's not exactly normal for a couple of senior guys. So that was kind of a tip-off, too. He asked Jonathan why he never did, and Jonathan, as he tells, shrugged and said, “I've already got someone to fuck around with.”  
  
Now he's just convinced, right, he doesn't think he even needs to ask, but he wants to get verbal confirmation. So he figures, if Jonathan skirted around this for – I dunno, maybe a month – then he's probably not really 'out'. So he figures he'll give Jonathan a bit of respect and he waits until they're closing up shop, there's no one left in the building, they're just about to leave when he turns to Jonathan and says, “So you're gay, right?”  
  
Jonathan went bright red. He – and I'm using my buddy's words here, not mine – he squawked, “Who the fuck told you that!”  
  
See now they're both embarrassed as shit, and the guy's trying to calm him down saying, “I'm sorry, I just figured,” yadda yadda, and Delirious is throwing his arms everywhere, yelling, “What the fuck made you think that!”  
  
Of course that just has to be right when I come up from around the corner to walk him home, so Jonathan throws open the door still in half-tantrum mode, marches up to me all huffy and starts dragging me by my arm down the street. I figured the guy he walked out with must've said something really nasty to him, cause there isn't a whole lot that upsets Jonathan, so I'm glaring daggers into the guy over my shoulder while Jonathan holds fast onto my arm while we start on home. Let me tell you, the guy really wasn't much less convinced.  
  
So anyway, fast forward to the end of senior year. Graduation was a lot of fun to be fair, though I've gotta say it was probably because I threw all my energy into the parties and after-parties and the after-after-parties – which was just playing COD with Jonathan until seven in the morning – just get it off my mind that I didn't get into college. It wasn't really Jonathan's thing, but he said it wasn't all bad. I think he was trying to distract himself, too – again, he had no plan. Getting through high school was enough for him.  
  
So we started talking late at night about moving out together, and it seems like a fuckin' fantastic idea. We both get an immediate roommate we know we can get along with, our parents agree to cover the first month, and we'll be totally on our own. Our rules kinda thing. Jonathan starts talking it over with his sister over the phone, and she's all for it, but she poses an interesting idea to him.  
  
“You look at rent prices and all that?” she asked.  
  
“Yeah, our parents are only paying enough for a single room but it'll be cool.” he explained.  
  
“Mm. Wonder what'll happen when one of you wants to brings someone home.” she mused.  
  
Delirious said he just blinked, he had no idea what she was talking about. “Like... family or something? Visitors?”  
  
She chuckled. “No, like when someone takes someone home at night.”  
  
Even then, it took him a second. Then, “Oh.” He said he had no idea how to respond to that, he hadn't even considered it. He just kind of bit his lip, and gave a small, “Yeah.”  
  
His sister was quiet for a second, too – probably giving him some time to process it. Again, by this point, she is absolutely certain Jonathan liked me. “Think that'll happen?” she inquired.  
  
Jonathan said at this point, he started thinking back to when I was dating that one girl. I didn't go into crazy detail about everything that went on between us, but he wasn't in the dark about it, either.  
  
He said his voice was really quiet when he spoke again. “I dunno.”  
  
“I don't think he would, to be honest. Doesn't seem like the type.” she replied. Jonathan later figured she didn't want to be cruel.  
  
Jonathan nodded to himself. “Yeah. Yeah, I don't think so either.”  
  
“I'm guessing you don't really like the idea of it.”  
  
Jonathan bit his cheek. He said he was really conflicted here, because he knew he didn't have a good reason to be telling me not to have sex. I mean if anything, he was my best friend, that gave him wingman status. But he said she was right; he really, really didn't like the idea.  
  
But, like Jonathan does, he shrugged it off and said, “Yeah, I dunno where I'd sleep. I'd have to come back home, that'd be kinda awkward.”  
  
You could probably hear his sister's eyes roll from the next town. But, I'll give him credit, at least he remembered this. So some part of it stuck with him, even if it took him another six months before he put it together.  
  
So we moved out pretty soon after that in one big sweep. We didn't take a whole lot of stuff with us, really, just bare the minimum. We weren't moving far, either, just a few miles down the road. We didn't have a car, though, so if we forgot anything, we'd have to walk it or bus it. We got pretty lucky, though; Jonathan forgot all of his pajamas so he slept in his boxers, but other than that, we didn't do too bad.  
  
Let me tell you, the first night was fun as all hell. We stayed up until broad daylight and fell asleep with the TV on. We learned pretty quick to never do that when the bill came in, but for a first night, it was great.  
  
Jonathan was pretty embarrassed to say this, so of course I've gotta throw it in – he said that waking up that next morning was a real trip. We'd slept in the same bed a lot, that part wasn't weird. But he said that, of all things, waking up next to me but not already half-falling out of a twin-size mattress in one of our smelly-ass bedrooms was really weird. Said it made him feel a lot more grown up, like a lot of time had passed.  
  
He said it was actually pretty damn scary, but he was really proud that he'd stuck with me through the whole thing. Like he was an adult now, and he'd have to deal with all the shit that came with it, but he'd have me there, too. And I'm really glad he thought that, because the only reason I wasn't shaking in my boots while I was packing all my stuff into the pick-up was because he was right there with me.  
  
So if I'm going to make a half-assed attempt at telling you this chronologically, the next thing we talk about is New Years Day.  
  
Now, I don't think I really talked about this on my end, but for Jonathan, this day was pretty damn insane. We didn't really talk about what happened – we just laughed it off with everyone else, got really drunk, and passed out in the living room. At least, that's what I did. And I kinda lost track of him at some point, so I didn't even notice when he went out back to call his sister.  
  
Again, Jonathan was wasted by this point. Didn't take much, either – he doesn't drink basically at all. So he couldn't really remember this conversation word for word, but essentially he and his sister just freaked out for a good couple minutes, followed by his sister trying to calm him down. Jonathan was panicked because at age 19 or something he'd never kissed anyone before, and he was scared about what it said about him that I, his best friend and very much male, was his first. Not to mention in public. And while Jonathan doesn't recall, his sister swears on her life that he said, “Now everyone's gonna know,” which, ambiguous as it is, I think just proves that Jonathan is a hell of a lot more insightful when he's had a few.  
  
His sister reports asking, “Know what?” but he just kept rambling about how everyone had seen, how casual I'd been about it, just the fact that it happened, you know, all that. He was really pretty riled up. His sister – bless that lady, 3 am on New Years Day she couldn't have been ready for this – she was trying to ask him questions to get him to process it instead of just freaking, but he was too far gone.  
  
Jonathan can't actually remember hanging up, and his sister just remembered his voice cutting off at some point. She'd tried to call him back, so I honestly have no clue what Jonathan did with his phone at that point. We actually had to spend a good twenty minutes looking for it in the morning – ended up finding it in the dog's kennel, scratched to shit.  
  
So regardless, Jonathan went back inside and found me on the couch, either half or totally passed out. Either way I can't remember a second of this. But he said he sat down in front of me, suddenly feeling almost completely sober, and asked, “Why'd you do that?”  
  
Again, I don't remember a thing, but apparently I cracked one eye open, and just looked at him for a solid second. Then I hauled one arm up and put my hand on his head. He said I was sort of pulling him toward me, so he shifted himself closer like I was gonna whisper something to him, but I didn't say anything, I just kept trying to pull him forward. Course, he had no idea what I wanted him to do. Hell, I don't even know what I wanted him to do. But by that point he was losing his grip again, and his head fell against the couch, and the dumbass just fell asleep like that. And I know that for a fact, because I had that as his contact photo for about a year.  
  
So as I was getting Jonathan to talk about all this, he seemed to just kind of skip to the end, when he was figuring everything out. I thought maybe he was just being shy about details, which would make sense. I mean, it's embarrassing enough for me to write this shit down, you'd have to pay me good money to actually say it aloud. But when I tried to tell him that it didn't matter and I'd really like to hear it, he had to tell me that there really wasn't much build-up, it was just a split second 'holy fuck' moment. I mean I'd contemplated it for ages, it'd been a stray thought I'd been trying to push out of my head for literally years – since probably senior year of high school, really – but with him, he didn't try denying it. When he knew it, he knew it. That was that. But goddamn did it take a fuckin' freight train to the face for him to know it.  
  
So I'll set the scene for you here. It was Christmas time, and Jonathan and I agreed that instead of getting presents for each other, no exceptions – yeah, I got him a Hershey's bar, sue me – we put all our money on a trip to Disney World. We couldn't afford to fly, though, so we drove it. Mind you, that's a ten hour drive. We started Friday, and we split up the driving – easily the best Christmas idea the world's ever had, that was a fucking amazing day – but Sunday, I got kinda sick. I guess standing outside in crowds of people in the middle of winter, stuffing yourself with cotton candy and shit, and getting maybe three hours of sleep Saturday night in a shitty hotel isn't exactly ideal for your immune system.  
  
So we drag ourselves out of bed at seven, already feeling dead as all hell. Jonathan volunteered to drive first and I had no complaints. A couple hours in, I just fell asleep. But Jonathan didn't wake me up halfway, he just kept driving. He nudges me awake when he pulls into the driveway and when I open my eyes, he's looking like he's about ready to pass the fuck out. I'm immediately demanding very groggily why he did the whole drive, and he just shrugged and got out of the car. We went in, and we had an absolutely delicious meal with both our families all piled into that little dining room. Everyone was asking why Jonathan looked so tired, and my mom suggested he go take a nap in my old room after dinner, before the kids started doing presents. He was about to say he was fine, but my mom is pretty damn stubborn. So away he went.  
  
So we finish up dishes and my mom's telling me to go get him. I walk over to my room, open the door and he's still passed out. I honestly didn't have the heart to wake him up. I mean, normally I'd just straight up sling him over my shoulder and haul him out, the guy's all bone, but he honestly looked like he needed the rest. I was going back and forth between just telling my mom it's not gonna happen, but our cousins and everyone are down there and I had a feeling he wouldn't want to miss the big event. I just sat down on the floor in front of him, wondering. I remember he still had dark circles under his eyes, and his hair was ragged as it'd ever been.  
  
I shook his shoulder a bit, whispering to him. I don't know if I was really doing it with the intent of waking him up, but I kept hearing shreiking kids from down the hall eagerly waiting to get the show on the road. So I shook him a little harder.  
  
“Jonathan,”  
  
One eye began to open, just the tiniest bit.  
  
“C'mon, we gotta go.” I told him quietly.  
  
He just breathed out really slowly, frowning his eyes closed again.  
  
I was torn, I really was. I put one hand on his head, and just started smoothing his hair.  
  
Now, this might be a good time to say that by this point, I knew I liked him. Like, for sure, there wasn't a doubt in my mind. I'd known for months by this point. But I also was highly aware of the fact that Jonathan doesn't know jack shit about himself, so I just kept it under wraps. It wasn't exactly fun to think about, but I didn't see a point in complicating things. I had him with me all the time, and as things were, I knew that wouldn't change. So I guess in another sense, I tried to just push it out of my head.  
  
So you can imagine how my heart fucking stopped when he slowly reached up to take the hand I had in his hair, brought it close to his face, and kissed the back of my fingers.  
  
I didn't know what to do. I wanted to just hug him, just curl up on the bed and hold him and let him go back to sleep. And honestly, I probably would have if it wasn't for one thing – there was a knock on the door. I turned, and well, more like a knock on the doorframe. It was wide open, like I left it, and Jonathan's sister stood there with a little knowing smile. I had no idea how much she'd seen, but I could feel myself going red. I opened my mouth to say something, I don't even know what, but she saved me the added shame.  
  
She told me, “I'll get him.” and I nodded hastily, taking my hand out of Jonathan's hold and walking back down the hall, refusing to make eye contact with her.  
  
The rest of the night went without incident, really – I was feeling a little awkward for a couple minutes, for sure, but Jonathan didn't seem to remember anything, as usual. It wasn't until the very next day, when Jonathan and his sister talked again, that everything went down.  
  
His sister invited him – and only him – out to dinner. He didn't know what was up, she'd never had him over for dinner. He thought she was going to tell him off for coming to Christmas dinner half dead, but that definitely wasn't what went down.  
  
“Jonathan, can you be honest with me?” she asked him. He said she had a glass of red wine in her hand and was looking pretty sinister. To be honest, I'm not surprised – she'd watched him go around completely clueless of himself for a good six or seven years now, she had to be getting impatient.  
  
He nodded slowly, swallowing his last bite of chicken.  
  
“Would you like to date Luke?” she asked.  
  
Jonathan said he just froze. He thought he would've coughed up everything short of his lungs and started rambling about how crazy she was, but he didn't, he just... stopped.  
  
His sister waited another moment, but he still didn't respond, so she continued. “I get that you two are close. But there's something else going on, isn't there? Can you tell me about it?”  
  
Jonathan said he was feeling extremely aware of his breathing, the chair under him, the shirt on his chest, how he was finding it very difficult to move his mouth – but he managed it.  
  
“I mean... I don't know...” he muttered, staring at his plate, but when he looked back up at her, he could tell that wasn't good enough. He tried again. “We're just – you know, we care a lot. About each other.”  
  
“How do you feel about him?” she inquired, but he just frowned, not understanding. So she tried again. “If he were to walk in right now, how would you feel?”  
  
His sister said he was half-smiling before she even finished the thought, which to me is just precious. Of course then he tried to play it off with a shrug, but before he got a single word out she reminded him, “And be honest.”  
  
He took a second, and gave a small sigh. “I just... It makes me happy, I guess? I just like having him around, you know, where I can see him. Or like... living together. Come home and he's there. That kinda thing.”  
  
She nodded. “You two are pretty affectionate, too, right? Does that make you happy?”  
  
Jonathan didn't need the extra second this time before he nodded, though he still kept his eyes on his plate.  
  
“What about New Year's Day?”  
  
Jonathan started going really pink at the ears.  
  
“Would you be happy if that happened again?” she questioned.  
  
Jonathan started opening his mouth to speak but took the words back before they came out. He tried again and asked, “Do we gotta talk about all this?”  
  
His sister just gave a very curt, “Yes.”  
  
She said he was biting the shit out of his lip for a few seconds before he answered quietly, “Okay. Yeah. I'd be... I'd be okay with that.”  
  
“Would you be okay with it, or maybe something else?” she proded. Really glad I've never had to get an intervention from her.  
  
Jonathan messed with his sleeve. “I mean, we're best friends. Can't really...” he shrugged, “you know, do that.”  
  
“Do you wish you could?” she inquired.  
  
Jonathan was quiet for another second, pink fading into red. His voice was tiny, like he was seven and admitting he'd cheated on a spelling test. “I never really... thought about it.”  
  
“Think about it now.” she ordered, and took a sip of wine. Probably needed it to get through all this.  
  
Jonathan had both of his hands stuffed into his long sleeves by now. “I mean I – if I could, you know... Just, like, as an idea.”  
  
“If you could, then what?” she inquired.  
  
“Then...” he gave a half shrug that just left him frozen with his shoulders to his ears, “I mean, I probably... would.”  
  
She crossed one leg over the other, eyeing him. “Jonathan, hun, you care about that man more than you care about anything else in your life. You'd drop out of heaven if it meant you could spend a day with him, I know that for a fact. I see you two interact, the way you talk to him, look at him, how you're always near him – that's not just a regular old friendship. That's not even being best friends, that's something different.” She lifted one hand, “And I'm not here to tell you how to live, I just want to see you happy. And I think you'd be a lot happier if you and Luke were more than what you are now.”  
  
Jonathan just stared at her for a long while. His brow was twitching and his sister was scared he would cry, but he didn't.  
  
He looked back down at his plate, and murmured very softly, “What about him?”  
  
After Christmas, I don't think his sister needed much convincing that I was on board. She smiled and replied, “I think he'll surprise you.”  
  
I remember he was really quiet when he came home that night. I was already in my bed, laying on the covers, scrolling on my phone. He came in already changed, and was answering vaguelly about the dinner. I was kinda worried – he was panicking a little when he was leaving the house, so I had a feeling there was bad news he just wasn't ready to talk about. I tried to not press it, and he turned off the lights and got into the bed. Nothing unusual there, though the fact that he didn't want to sleep alone only further convinced me something had happened.  
  
He laid on his side, and I could feel his eyes on me. I looked over at him.  
  
“You okay?” I asked quietly.  
  
He nodded, silent. I watched him for another second, and he scooted himself closer to me and laid his head on my stomach. I remember my breath caught in my throat, and I was trying to put my hand on his head without it shaking too much. I turned off my phone and we fell asleep.  
  
Now, Jonathan wasn't completely sold on this idea right off the bat. It really threw him, that's for sure, because I don't think he'd ever been reflective for a day in his life, and it definitely had him rethinking a lot of the stuff he'd done over the years. He fell asleep with his head reeling, but he said that the next morning was what really sealed the deal.  
  
When he woke up, I was in the shower. He dragged himself out to the living room and started poking aroud for something to eat, when someone started hammering on the door. It was this asshole neighbor of ours; he used to around once or twice a week to complain about whatever the fuck it was that time. It could honestly be anything – once it was because we left a light on, another because one of us had an late shift and he could hear us walking down the hall, once because we didn't have a car so we were 'wasting company space' – I mean really, the guy was a lunatic. Jonathan and I were betting there was something nasty going down in his personal life, because every time he came over, he would get more and more feral. Early days he was just a nuisance, but it got to the point that we were talking to the landlord about it, but apparently they were cousins and he couldn't kick him out without family drama. But we couldn't just not answer the door, because the fuckface would pound on it, hollering at us for – and we timed it – exactly twenty eight minutes until he called the landlord.  
  
However, it seemed like he was slightly less fucking insane when he was yelling at Jonathan than me. So Jonathan figured he'd just deal with him. And I know exactly when he opened the door, because the guy just started screaming. Neither of us even remember what it was about, but I heard him slam the door open. He started trying to get into the apartment, and Jonathan was trying to push him out, but Jonathan's just a scrawny thing and he's said he didn't stand a chance. I was just getting my jeans on when I heard it all go down. I made a fucking beeline to the door, pulled Jonathan back and punched the fucker right in the eye. That shut him up.  
  
The guy starts sputtering about getting the cops on us and bolts. I slam the door, furious, and turn around to see Jonathan holding his hands to his chest, and I can see in his fingers he's shaking. Instantly, it was like anger was the last thing on my mind, and I walked up to him and pulled him close to me.  
  
He had his head buried in my chest, and I couldn't even hear it at first, but he was apologizing.  
  
“I'm sorry, that was stupid. I shouldn't have opened it, I should've called you for help. I dunno what I was thinking.”  
  
I put one hand on his head. “Don't worry about it, alright?” I pulled away and looked at him. “You okay?”  
  
He nodded, and he wrapped his arms around me again. We stayed like that for a little while, until his breathing finally settled down and his arms started to drop, but he didn't take a step back, standing there staring at his feet. I took his head in my hands and he looked up at me. I still didn't like the look in his eyes. I kissed his hair and murmured, “You did good.”  
  
He nodded, and wiped his eyes on the sleeves of his hoodie, and in another minute we were eating day-old pizza at the table like nothing had happened.  
  
I called the landlord and told him everything. Jonathan was saying I should call the cops, but I figured if they're already on their way, what's the point? The landlord tried to play it off, but when I tell him that his dumbass cousin is gonna get the police involved and it'll be a building full of witnesses versus him, he changed his tune. He said he'll evict his cousin if we all keep hush about it. I agreed, but I said if there are any cops on our door then they're hearing the whole damn story.  
  
I don't even know what went on from there, but I guess the landlord stopped his cousin from calling the police and then evicted his ass. Honestly, I was just glad Jonathan and I weren't gonna have to deal with a whole court case. I just wanted the son of a bitch out of our lives.  
Jonathan has said that this day was important to him for a couple reasons. It didn't just secure in his mind the fact that he liked me, but it told him that no matter how weird this thing between us was, no matter what shit other people were gonna give us, that if it was gonna happen, then I was gonna defend it. That he wouldn't have to be scared. And he was damn right.  
  
So at this point, both of us are mostly or completely aware that we like the other person, but we're also convinced we don't stand a chance. And I'm not gonna go into a lot of detail about those couple weeks, because they kinda sucked – especially for Jonathan. I'd gotten used to the idea by now, it'd been months since I kinda accepted that I was gonna be in love with this guy 'til the end of time and he'd probably never know. But Jonathan had only just had his revelation. The feeling was fresh.  
  
For the first few days, things were really confusing. Jonathan just wasn't okay, and I could feel it. At first, I thought maybe he was just processing what'd happened that morning, but it didn't stop. I thought it must've had something to do with that dinner with his sister, because he still refused to talk about it. But I had to figure it out, because I was really worried. Once or twice a day, Jonathan seemed to just shut down; like whenever we were alone together and there was a pause in conversation, his gaze would sort of drift to my hands and he wouldn't say anything until I spoke again. I tried talking to him about it, but he would just shrug and say everything was cool. I didn't buy it worth a damn and he knew it, but he wouldn't give me any more than that. I wanted to give him privacy about it, but this was the first time something ever came up that either one us wouldn't talk about. We were always insanely open with each other.  
  
I wasn't worried there was something wrong between us, because I knew he'd talk about that; I figured there'd have to be something that was either too complicated or dark or soul-destroying for him to put to words. And remember, I love this guy. A lot. So it broke my fuckin' heart to watch him go through whatever it was alone.  
  
So I called up his sister, and I asked her what they'd talked about. She said it wasn't right for her to tell me, but I told her what was going on, and she said if nothing changed then she'd spill. The same day, Jonathan said he'd gotten a call from her, too; asked him what the fuck he was doing, told him that if he didn't talk to me about it, she would. Jonathan begged her not to, said nothing was gonna happen between us and that was fine, he just didn't want to put our friendship on the line. That's when she just told him straight up that he wasn't putting anything on the line, because I was way into him. He asked how she knew, and she just had to say that she knew and that was that.  
  
Honestly, I still wonder to this day how she figured me out so easily. I mean, Christmas had to be a big pointer, but she also seemed to know that I'd be a little more insightful about it than him. Though honestly, I think anybody would be.  
  
It took the rest of the month. Jonathan said he'd figured that I must've called his sister and that's how she knew what was happening, so he tried to ignore everything the best he could so it didn't seem like anything had changed. But honestly, I just know him way too well.  
  
I mean, there's a reason why we're so honest with each other – not just because we don't have any reason to lie, but because neither of us can get anything past the other. Like back in high school, there was just no point in trying to convince him I liked his hair pushed back. And I didn't have to be in the same class to know when he'd spent the test drawing superman S's in the margins.  
  
So no, I wasn't convinced. But I could tell he was trying to just move past it, so I decided there was no point trying to dig it up again. Business as usual. Except it really wasn't.  
  
Jonathan can't really do that – reject some part of him and pretend everything was fine and dandy. I mean, he lost a Tomagatchi once and he had about three mental breakdowns over the guilt, knowing it was dying under a couch somewhere. Eventually his mom started getting worried about his ice cream intake so I just got him a new one. So yeah, it's damn near impossible for him to bottle things up and just get over them – and thank fuck.  
  
So the end of the month comes around, and he's really losing his grip on it. He said he wanted to be angry, he wanted to call up his sister and demand why she'd tell him all this and put this huge obstacle in our relationship. In his head, what we had before was perfect. But now, he could see what was missing, and it was like a curse. Everything he thought he knew about himself was flipped on its head and now all he wanted was some distant gem he could reach for but never grab onto.  
  
But he knew if he called her, she'd tell him exactly what she said last time – either he say something or she would, and she'd mean it.  
We'd just finished up dinner, and it was his turn to wash.  
  
I was already stacking things by the sink, and he was slowly hauling himself out of his seat.  
  
“Can we just leave it for tomorrow?” he whined.  
  
“We're not getting ants again,” I chuckled, turning on the water.  
  
He walked over to me and tugged on my shirt. “It'll be okay for a night, c'mon,” he insisted.  
  
I grinned, putting a pan in the sink. “You tryin' to drag me off to bed, huh?” I shook my head. “I know I look fuckable as all hell doin' dishes, but babe, you gotta hold yourself back.”  
  
Thank god the water wasn't too loud or else I might not've heard him murmur, “But I don't wanna.”  
  
I stopped in my tracks. I had to think for a second. I reached over and turned the water off, and I could still feel his hand on my shirt. I turned slowly to look at him, and he was standing just inches from me, looking up with his big blue eyes.  
  
His voice was so small, like he was trying to keep a secret from his own ears. “That okay?”  
  
I found myself nodding, hardly even aware of it, and I brought one hand to his chin. I wanted to give him the extra second to back away, but he didn't. I leaned down and kissed him, softly as I could, and it was felt like for once in my life, I was doing something I knew was right.  
  
And you know the rest.


End file.
